From “I Met the Plague. He Was Nice.” by Joshua Sylvester Guthrie

I met the living embodiment of pestilence when we were in a dinky little airplane together. Remember, the one that crashed into the Smokey Mountain Cookie Factory on Harrison? Everybody was okay. Everybody but the cookies was okay.

He was kind of dazed by the crash so I helped him out. I probably should have thought that one through better since, you know, disease. He did look a little splotchy, but when I asked he said it would be fine as long as I washed my hands before I ate anything. While we were waiting for the ambulence and firefighters, I asked Pestilence where he was going.

Okay, so he was going to Vegas, he said, for a bachelor party. He’d been around here to give the mumps to kids whose parents thought vaccines caused lycanthropy or something. Then he asked me where I had been going. I said that I’d been flying to Grandma Dee’s since she was too blind to drive. Pesitlence said he’d clear up her cataracts since I helped him, but I don’t know if he can really do that.

If you’re in Vegas, I guess say hi to him. Look for really blond hair, kinda splotchy skin, and a green striped t-shirt. Wash your hands before you eat anything.